Brother in Arms
by doctor b. broseph
Summary: Harry discovers another young man with bizarrely similar circumstances to his own. There is just one major difference between the two. One of them is a Marty Stu. And one of them is not long for this world...
1. Privet Life

It was a dismal day in Privet Drive. Harry had once again been locked beneath the staircase, in the closet that had once been his bedroom. After what seemed an eternity, Harry became sick of being in the closet. Polishing his wand could only take up so much of his time. Harry wanted to get out into the wide world, ride his broomstick, and maybe make out with Ginny Weasley for a little bit. _Erotically._

As he sighed, lying outstretched over his bed, he cursed the fact that Dumbledore apparently had no qualms with letting Harry be abused by the Dursleys, who hadn't fed him in about a week. He whipped out his wand, and starting beating on the door.

"Oi! You stupid, fat Muggles! Can I get something to eat in here?"

He swung his fists threw the bars the Dursleys had erected outside his door. As his clumsy fist swung back and forth, he accidently punched Aunt Petunia in the face.

Harry gasped as she fell backward; the pot of boiled fish she was carrying (obviously to feed Harry with) flew up into the air and landed on her face. She started to scream as the boiling hot fish and pot burnt her face.

"It burns!" she screamed rather redundantly, as the metal and flesh burnt her skin.

"Oh God! Holy shit!" screamed Harry horrified, "I'm so sorry, oh God what have I done?"

Dudley walked into the room, shoving eight hotdogs down his throat simultaneously, in a manner Harry found disturbingly sensual. His eyes widened as he spotted his mother screaming on the floor and Harry, standing through the bars, gripping his wand.

"Yygg thisch thutch!" he tried to scream as the hotdogs slid down his throat. He gagged and choked but to no avail. The sausages forced their way down his throat. He fell to his knees, gagging on the thick sausages.

Harry watched in horror as Dudley became blue in the face. Their eyes interlocked and Harry watched as Dudley took the meat full on in throat. He had no idea whether he should laughing or crying.

Dudley's eyes rolled back and he sank to the floor next to his mother who had finally stopped screaming. Harry noticed with horror, that Dudley was pitching a tent (if you know what I mean).

Harry was speechless. This could not have happened. He literally could not believe that this sort of thing would happen, not in reality. As if things could not get any worse, Uncle Vernon walked into the room. Well, to say he walked in is rather generous; it is more realistic to say that he waddled in.

"What have you done!" he screamed in rage at Harry, frothing from the mouth.

He began to stumble towards Harry when there was a flash of green and he tumbled to the ground. He fell right outside Harry's cell/closet. Harry reached down to feel for a pulse. He felt nothing, but he wasn't sure if that was because his uncle was dead or if he was so fat, the artery was buried too deep beneath his uncle's fat neck.

Harry broke into a nervous sweat and started to shudder. He was starting to flip the fuck out. His relatives had just died, and he was trapped in the closet. He had never sympathised with R. Kelly more.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure barrel rolled unnecessarily through the door that Uncle Vernon had entered through just moments ago. He straightened up, drew out his wand and looked Harry square in the face. In the brief seconds in which this occurred, Harry decided to memorise his appearance so he'd have someone to blame this fiasco on if the wizard cops came after him

Harry noticed the young man had almond shaped eyes with colours Harry thought were the colours of ripe plums. 'So purple', Harry thought to himself, 'he's got purple eyes. That's… weird. '

The man's thick, gold, wavy hair reminded Harry of a cascading waterfall. 'Wait, what?' thought Harry, 'He's got long blonde hair, what's all this shit about waterfalls?'

His face was cloaked with five o'clock shadow, his skin as white as the finest fine china, his ears were prominent, and his thick, gnarled wand was made of poplar and had a core of kraken shell-

'How the hell do I know that? I'm not a wand expert,' thought Harry as he began to notice the young man's rippling abs and conspicuous lack of shirt…

"Hold up!" yelled Harry frustrated, "Stop narrating this so it sounds like I fancy the guy!"

Harry then decided to stop breaking the fourth wall, and ask this guy just who the hell he was anyway.

"Okay I'll stop breaking the fourth wall and ask this guy just who the hell he is anyway."

Harry turned to face the incredibly handsome and suave gentlemen in front of him.

With a sigh, Harry quizzed, "Just who the hell are you anyway, guy?"

The guy gave him a charming smile, showing dazzling teeth that seemed to shine in a subtle yet overt way.

"My name is Clash Radical and I'm here to save you from the Dursleys! Alohamora!"

With an expert flick of his thick wand, the locks to Harry's door exploded.

Harry frowned, "Wait, your name is Clash Radical?"

Clash smiled, "Yes, that's right."

"As in, that's your actual name. The name your parents gave you?"

Clash's eyes began to glisten with tears and he turned away from Harry, "My parents were tragically killed by Voldemort when I was a baby. Just like your parents Harry. We need to work together to avenge them."

Harry, frowned yet again, "Um, sure. Look thanks for getting me out of my cell. We should probably get out of here, my relatives just died and I think Dark Wizards might be behind it."

Clash smiled reassuringly, patronisingly patting Harry on the head, "That was me silly! I killed them with magic. Now grab my hand and I'll apparate us into Hogwarts!"

Harry was aghast.

"You killed them? But- what? Why?"

Clash frowned, "They were mean jerks! They had it coming Harry! Now come on, we need to get out of here."

"But- why? If you're the one who- Wait a minute. You can't even apparate into Hogwarts, that's impossible!" blurted Harry confusedly.

"Shhhhh," whispered Clash as he laid a finger on Harry's lips, "It's going to be alright."

And with that he grabbed Harry's throat, spun and apparated, taking Harry into an uncertain future.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	2. A Radical Retcon

As the pair fell from the magical vortex and onto the ground, Harry wryly noted they were not in fact in Hogwarts.

"Hey Clash? You know this isn't Hogwarts right? This is Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

Clash, who had let go of Harry's throat by this point, struck a strangely heroic pose.

"Well Harry, if you had been paying attention I said I would take us into Hogwarts but I never said we would apparate there. That's impossible."

"Hang on, that's not what happened," begun Harry before he paused. With a quick glance around, he noticed that the Weasley family was standing around and staring at the pair in horror. He noticed that Ron and Ginny were absent.

"Hi Mr and Mrs Weasley," said Harry nervously, "Fred. George. Percy. Bill. Charlie. What's going on?"

Clash frowned.

"Well if I'm right Harry, when we apparated here, we apparated right where Ron and Ginny were standing and thus according to the laws of quantum psychics, the atoms that made up Ron and Ginny were dissembled and they were dispersed elsewhere across the universe."

"What the hell did you do to my children!" screamed Mrs Weasley lunging at Clash.

Clash quickly neutralised her attack with a killing curse, "Well remaining Weasleys, if you must know, three of your family are already dead. There's an infinitely small chance that Ron or Ginny may have survived the apparition incident, but Mrs Weasley is dead for sure."

Needless to say the remaining Weasleys were pissed and proceeded to fire curses at Clash. And yet against the odds, Clash managed to kill them all without taking any damage.

"What have you done you son of a bitch?" screamed Harry as he took out his own wand.

Clash pouted as he eyed Harry's wand warily, "You're not going to kill me are you Harry? I thought we were friends!"

Harry growled angrily, "We aren't friends! You just showed up out of nowhere and started murdering everyone like a bloody psychopath! I'm going to disembowel you as brutally as possible for what you've done!"

Clash looked at Harry bemusedly, "You remember Lockhart?"

"What? Did you kill him too?"

"Obliviate!" yelled Clash as he fired the memory spell at Harry's head. Harry's expression blanked and he fell backwards unconscious. Clash stepped over his unconscious form, sensually.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way Harry, but if we're going to work together, I can't have you accusing me of murder. That's no way to begin a friendship. I'm doing this for us, don't take it personally. I'm just going to alter some of your memories…"

* * *

><p>When Harry awoke on the train station floor, he looked around for his good friend, Clash Radical. Clash had been his best friend, since they had first met on the Hogwarts Express back in Harry's first year. They had been through so much together. It worried Harry that he couldn't see him.<p>

He wandered up and down the train station, passingly familiar but strangely blank faced students from his school. Everyone seemed to be wearing the same expression of confusion, as if they unsure where exactly they were.

When Harry was finally reunited with his best friend for life, Clash Radical, he found him macking on Cho Chang. Harry was totally cool with the fact that Clash and Cho were dating. As far as he knew, there was no reason he should be upset with this. There was nothing to be jealous about, especially not their interlocking lips, or watching Cho run her fingers threw Clash's hair, or watching them dash into the public toilets for some privacy. Nothing at all, thought Harry to himself as he felt an emotion he couldn't quite place rise up in his chest.

He boarded the train and went to the carriage where all his other friends were. His loyal and brainy pal, Hermione Granger, his loopy friend Luna Lovegood, his other loyal and handsome pal, Draco Malfoy, who was making out with his boyfriend Vincent Crabbe. He took his seat next to his fellow… Gryffindors…

Harry frowned. For some reason, something seemed a little bit off. He couldn't quite place it. It couldn't be Draco and Crabbe tonguing each other passionately across from him, nor could it have been Hermione and Luna's incredibly slutty dresses. It was just something… odd.

Harry felt as though there was… something missing but he just didn't know what.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in Privet Drive, Ron awoke beneath a swathe of corpses. As he pushed their blubbery masses off from on top of his body, he noted with horror that they were those of Harry's abusive relatives. Needless to say, he was freaked out.<p>

He was somehow at Harry's, surrounded by corpses, when just a few moments ago he had been at the train station with his family.

Ron swore viciously, "What the fuck is going on?"

_**To Be Continued…**_


	3. The Ron Riddle

As Ron recoiled from the bodies and headed to the living room, the windows to the Dursley residence shattered and a cloaked figure marched through. Ron realised with a shock that it was Lord Voldemort.

"Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, now to-, "Voldemort blinked. The boy's residence was empty. He cursed angrily. He had waited forever for the protective spell that had prevented him attacking Harry's home to end only to find a bunch of corpses and a ginger who appeared to have pissed himself.

He strolled menacingly over to Ron, and glared at the boy, shoving his wand in his face.

"Hello Ginger. Where is Harry Potter? You are his… servant, are you not?"

Ron spluttered angrily despite himself, "I'm not his bloody servant, I'm his best friend!"

Voldemort shrugged, "You say to_ma_to, I say toma_to_… I don't really care what he views you as. I just want to know where he is. Savvy?"

Ron's eyes darted across the room, nervously.

"I don't know! If he's not here he's probably gone to Hogwarts or something."

Voldemort swore viciously. Outsmarted again.

"I don't believe it! How can it be so hard to kill a teenager?" he screamed impotently, shaking his fists at the heavens.

"Maybe you're being too direct with your approach," offered Ron, who was nervously eyeing Voldemort's wand, which he was increasingly gripping tighter.

Voldemort smiled with an evil grin.

"I have an idea boy! And you have no choice but to comply."

He pulled a vial of Polyjuice potion from his cloak pocket. He then plucked some of Ron's hair from his head and then plucked some hair from his own body. Ron noted that as Voldemort was bald, the hair was probably not plucked from a particularly savoury place.

"With this potion, I will disguise myself as you, and you will be disguised as me. This will allow me to sneak into Hogwarts and kill Harry undetected. I am brilliant."

Ron opened his mouth to point out some gaping flaws in Voldemort's plan but then realised he didn't want him to succeed and stayed quiet.

Voldemort added Ron's hairs to his cup and drank. Ron watched as the ugly, bald tyrant turned into an ugly, ginger wimp. If he was aware of my narration, you can be assured he would have taken issue with that comment. But only Harry seems to be aware of my existence.

Voldemort turned and thrust the second cup down Ron's mouth. Ron too transformed and took on Voldemort's visage.

Voldemort smiled.

"Now that we've taken on all of each other's properties, no-one will be able to suspect a thing. Oh and Ron, I'm an accomplished Legilimens. I know what you were thinking. You were thinking you could masquerade as me and somehow warn Harry, or rally the Death Eaters and have them kill me. But you forgot one thing."

Ron gulped.

"Avada Kedavra," cried Voldemort as he pointed his wand into Ron's crotch. He watched the boy slump to the ground with satisfaction. And yet, the sight of seeing himself die was oddly disturbing. Even if it wasn't really him. And there was no danger of him suffering the same fate.

Because Voldemort could not die. His horcruxes would protect him. He was assured of that, because they were one of Voldemort's most important properties.

He apparated away, leaving Ron's limp form lying on the ground. No-one would stir in that room for another hour or so.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	4. Something Wicked

Another hour or so later, Ron stirred. In a twist that should not be shocking to anyone, he had taken on all of Voldemort's psychical properties. Including the protection of the Horcruxes.

As the Polyjuice potion began to wear off, Ron became aware that his best friend was in mortal danger. Voldemort would surely kill Harry, who always left his guard down when he was near his best friend.

Ron would need to act fast. He had no way of knowing where Harry was, but he suspected he was headed towards or had already arrived at Hogwarts. He couldn't be sure where Voldemort was either. In fact, he didn't even know how he could protect Harry from Voldemort if it came to that. Ron was pretty useless most of the time.

But Ron's friends were in trouble. Swelling with the power of friendship, Ron drew out his wand, summoned a pair of wicked cool shades and tried to think of the most badass one liner he could before he set off to save Harry.

"Time to _kill the shit_ out of You-Know-Who… No that was dumb… Time to _slay_-ve the day- No wait, that sounds like slave… uh okay… I'm going to _kick ass_ and _transform_ _into Dark Wizards_, and I'm _all out_ of Polyjuice potion. Aw yeah!"

And with that, he tapped his heels together three times and apparated to the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

><p>As Dumbledore paced around his tower as he often did, he became increasingly disturbed by the reports the Order of the Phoenix was sending him.<p>

For one thing, it appeared the entire Weasley family had gone missing, save for Ron, who had mysteriously appeared on the Hogwarts Express. He had apparently been seen acting quite out of character, threatening first years and swearing up a storm.

Dumbledore had ensured that the Aurors on the train had magically hid Harry's carriage from Ron's view and vice versa until Dumbledore would be able to examine Ron and find out what the deal was.

Dumbledore guessed that it was likely a particularly dim-witted Death Eater who was impersonating Ron on the train. It was likely they used Polyjuice Potion to this effect, he deduced.

But there was something else troubling Dumbledore. Each piece of equipment scattered across his room all had their own uses. But one in particular had activated an alarm quite recently.

The machine in question specialised in detecting the most powerful of dark forces. Things that were more powerful than human, closer to deities. This thing was shrieking incessantly, a grave sign that something or someone was coming to Hogwarts that would be incredibly difficult to deal with.

Dumbledore didn't know how powerful the thing or person was, but it suggested incredible magical ability. The level of mastery spoken of most often in fictional tales conjured up by the most inexpert of writers. Dumbledore shuddered at what havoc this force could cause within the school. It could manipulate reality to suit it's whims and change people's personalities for it's own ends.

He marched down the staircase and headed to the Vault, he had long since prepared for such an occasion. Dumbledore noted wryly that being a paranoid old bastard occasionally paid off.

As he marched to the Vault, he walked past to gardeners who were attempting to juggle with their shears.

"What are you doing you motherfuckers?" he screamed rather uncharacteristically.

The gardeners dropped the shears and muttered apologies. But Dumbledore no longer cared. His outburst seemed rather out of place and seemed to confirm exactly what he had feared.

There was a Marty Stu in Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>As Harry marched up the stairs with Clash, he failed to notice Clash break into a dashing, if somewhat evil, smile. Clash breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it. Hours of hard work and infiltration had paid off. He had finally entered Hogwarts.<p>

Clash wrapped an arm around Cho, and another around Harry.

"We're home. Home at last."


	5. Chode Chang

As Ron descended from the magical vortex and finally apparated onto the Hogwarts Express, he noted with a scowl that it was completely empty. He had missed the train. Ron swore up a storm.

This was just like in the second year, thought Ron to himself, as he booted a nearby briefcase someone had left unattended. Had this been in a Muggle train station, this would have been viewed with suspicion. But wizards are pretty lax about the threat of terrorism. Why would a wizard bomb a car? That's stupid. Wizards rarely even use cars and when they do, they usually come with the ability to-

"Wait a minute," gasped Ron with a sudden realisation, "how did I get to Hogwarts in the second year?"

With a brilliant gleam in his eye, Ron darted out into the car park, searching desperately for the car his father had borrowed from the Ministry the previous day. As he found the car, he smashed open the window and climbed in.

He turned the key in the ignition and found the button he knew would allow the car to fly. Ron smiled to himself.

"I love magic."

* * *

><p>Dumbledore stepped back from the room with a smile. It was just as planned, the trap was in place. However Dumbledore had run into a slight issue, the object that he would require would not move. It was stuck in that room.<p>

But Dumbledore was not worried. It would not be difficult to lure a young boy into a dark room alone.

Dumbledore paused. On reflection, he had quite poorly worded that sentence. If he were to ensure he retained enough sympathy for those allied with the Marty Stu not to outright attack him with the slightest provocation, he would need to minimise any acts or thoughts that might be construed as villainous.

He cackled to himself as he began to skulk back down the hallway, before slapping himself out of it. This was exactly the sort of thing he should be avoiding.

* * *

><p>Voldemort was pissed off. He had spent fruitless hours on the train and no sight of the orphaned prick he was trying to kill. He had begun to suspect the ginger was not as dear to Harry as Harry was to the ginger.<p>

He took out his anger on brutally decapitating some third years, before taking great pains to conceal their bodies. He didn't need anyone getting suspicious, he thought to himself as he splattered a few Hufflepuffs against the wall in a gratuitous manner.

He smiled evilly to himself. If he could just find the boy, he might be able to resume his plan to take over Britain. As soon as the authorities he had alerted to the presence of the 'Dark Wizard' in Privet Drive arrested Ron as Voldemort, he would be free to do as he pleased.

The thought never occurred to Voldemort that the Muggle authorities might disbelieve his ravings about dark wizards and fail to discover the bodies of the Dursleys. To be honest, Voldemort's plans were never quite as cunning as he believed.

He took a long swig from his flask. The polyjuice potion stung his throat, but it was of little concern. He had a near endless supply. Sooner or later, he would find the Boy who Lived. And sooner or later, he would crush the boy's testicles with his spindly fist and force the remaining pulp down his stupid, orphan throat.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Harry was blissfully unaware of the events unfolding around him. As far as he was concerned, it would be a quiet year at Hogwarts. No-one had died yet, and no-one would die. Period.<p>

He smiled and sunk in a couch in the common room. It was a familiar scene. Fred and George (who Harry was not surprised to see alive... because why would they be dead?) were experimenting with fireworks and high-fiving Clash who they viewed as a brother, Luna and Hermione were talking about the guys they wanted to sleep with, Draco and Crabbe were… Harry wasn't quite sure what they were doing in the corner, but they seemed to be enjoying it whatever it was.

He noticed that for the first time in the hours since they had returned to Hogwarts, Cho was not hanging off Clash's frame.

"Hey Clash? Where did Cho go?"

Clash laughed flippantly.

"You mean _Cho-_de Chang? It's over man. I'm totally banging Eloise Midgen now."

Harry laughed disbelievingly.

"Eloise Midgen? The chick with the crazy acne?"

As Harry bent over laughing, a totally stunning young woman walked into the room, minus acne. Harry realised with a shock, that it was Eloise Midgen.

He gaped at her hot ass as she pranced over and draped herself over Clash. Clash smirked at Harry's expression.

"This is Eloise. Man, I tell you, over these holidays, she really developed. She's got curves, in _all_ the right places. You know what I mean?"

Harry didn't know exactly what Clash meant, but as he watched Eloise essentially dry-humping the man and pressing herself against Clash needfully, he could damn well guess.

"Oh. Well. That's- that's really- huh. I- I… need to go… adjust my… Hedwig…"

Harry excused himself from the room. His wand was just itching to be polished.

_**To Be Continued!**_


	6. Red Heads

Meanwhile, concurrent to the events of past chapters, Ginny suddenly found herself in the vast depths of space. She had no idea how she had got there and dear Lord was it difficult to breathe. She gagged and choked, clutching at her throat to little avail. There was no air here, Ginny was going to die.

She could have escaped if she had not dropped her wand the moment she had appeared in the void, but presently it was spinning away from her, just outside of her grasp. Ginny desperately grasped at the wand but it was too far from her reach.

It seemed like this could be the end for Ginny. But in desperate times, wizards and witches have been known to draw on their innate magic. And presently, as Ginny asphixiated, both to her extreme horror (and to her surprise and yours, her slight pleasure), there was a sudden flash and she suddenly found herself slumped on the floor of the Burrow.

With a spasm, she felt herself pass into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>As Dumbledore paced down the hallway, he stopped as he noticed a familiar ginger cursing at a fourth year who was in his way. The ginger seemed to be in a hurry, and muttered something about Harry Potter and imminent danger.<p>

It was time to act. Without hesitation, Dumbledore whipped out his wand and blasted the ginger right in the face with a stupefying spell. He watched him slump to the ground.

"Sweet dreams young man," he muttered as he collected the ginger's unconscious form in his arms and carried him down to the dungeon. Snape could handle this, Dumbledore needed to make a school announcement…

* * *

><p>It was another dismal day for Harry. He had locked himself in his dormitory. He was getting sick of Clash Radical always making out with babes in front of him. First <em>Cho<em>de- he meant Cho, and now Eloise Midgen (minus acne). For the first time, Harry felt less like a hero and more like a sidekick.

For some reason, the thought of the word sidekick filled him with an intense longing that he couldn't quite place. As much as he had valued Clash's friendship over the years, he felt as though there was a void in his heart. As if there was someone he was missing…

There was a knock at the door of the dormitory. Harry got up, quickly straightened himself up and opened it. The door swung open slowly, as if it somehow knew that this was a dramatic moment. Harry watched as the wooden frame swung back to reveal the figure beneath it and he gasped.

"Ron?"

Suddenly, Harry remembered everything. The Dursleys, the Weasleys, Clash's casual murder of them all. Everything.

"Ron! Thank God you're alive!"

He rushed forward to hug his friend. Their arms wrapped around each other for a hug, between friends. No, the link was greater than mere friendship. It was a hug between brothers.

Voldemort smiled with a grin.

"Harry, thank God I found you."

He slipped one arm from Harry's back and pulled a knife from his pocket.

"Harry Potter. The Boy who Lived."

Harry frowned, "Oh my God Ron, you have no idea how sick I am of hearing that phrase, I swear to God I might-"

But we might never know how sick of hearing that phrase Harry was because at that moment, Voldemort sheathed his knife in Harry's stomach. Harry fell backwards with a groan.

"Ron?"

Voldemort's face began to bubble and revealed his true form. There was no longer any need for the disguise. Voldemort had succeeded.

Harry gasped, "You! You son of a- fuck!"

Harry winced as Voldemort withdrew the knife from Harry's gut. Blood began to flow amply. Events sure had taken a turn for the dramatic.

Voldemort smugly grinned.

"I bid you adieu, Potter."

As Harry's vision began to blur, he watched as Voldemort skulked out of the room laughing. Harry felt a darkness descending upon in him. It was too late for him.

"I'm so… sorry… Ron…"

He slumped to the ground with a thump, and bled out over the rug.

Minutes passed, and Clash Radical entered the room, shirtless as usual. When he saw Harry's lifeless form, he dropped to his knees and screamed in the manliest way possible.

"Noooo! Why? Dear God why! He was so beautiful; he was like Hyperion to the satyrs that are the students of Hogwarts. I loved him, not just as a brother… but as… _a lover_."

He sank to his knees in a passionate yet sombre way. Tears sparkled from his eyes. It was as though he was excreting diamonds from his face.

"First my parents and now Harry. When will the killing end?"

He crossed over to Harry's body and draped himself over him.

"Good night, sweet prince. Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

He suddenly shifted and his face lit up with surprise.

"Whoa, post-death erection! Harry Potter you naughty, dead boy!"

_**To Be Continued!**_

"Oh Harry!"


	7. Heroes

Clash walked out of the dormitory with an inappropriately satisfied swing in his step. No-one knew exactly what had happened in the room, but most of them had heard Clash wailing and hollering in the minutes before he returned. They stared apprehensively as he skipped out of the room, his face flushed.

"What's wrong Clash," queried Luna, her folded arms pushing up and exaggerating her cleavage.

Clash noticed the crowd and his expression became appropriately sombre. He wiped the corner of his mouth and sighed heavily. He stared down mopily at the ground.

"I'm afraid to say that Harry Potter has been slain. I suspect it is the work of… Lord Voldemort!"

Everyone gasped and whispered amongst themselves. Clash cleared his throat.

"Now I know you are all worried. People very dear to us have been disappearing and I daresay, have even been killed. But Harry's last words to me, as he choked out his last, sexy breath, were '_Clash, you are the last hope to defeat Voldemort. Also I love you. Not only as a brother… but… as a lover…_' That's right. Our bond transcends death itself. I'm sure if Harry were looking down right now, he would shed a tear of pride. I will avenge him. I will avenge you all! Who's with me?"

The crowd cheered, and the more enthusiastic females threw their panties at Clash. He stood there dignified, and played it cool.

"Please ladies, I have a girlfriend! Come on up baby, we've got work to do!"

Hermione leapt up from the crowd and draped herself across Clash. Those towards the front of the crowd would have noticed she had been one of the most enthusiastic about Clash's speech. Clash embraced her and led her away for some 'intense studying of Voldemort's weaknesses'.

Draco turned and whispered to Crabbe.

"What happened to Eloise Midgen?"

Crabbe tutted softly.

"They broke up after she reported Clash for sexual harassment. And then she accidentally locked herself in the pen where Hagrid keeps the manticore he bought for Magical Creatures Class. That whore."

"Aw, I've always loved Hagrid's little animals," cooed Draco.

"It ate her alive," tutted Crabbe playfully.

Draco and Crabbe both tutted, before resuming their make out session. Luna pouted jealously. She stormed out angrily, she was NOT going to be the only one not getting laid tonight if it was the last thing she did!

* * *

><p>Ron had been driving for hours. His eyes were getting heavier by the hour and he needed somewhere to rest. He just needed to rest his eyes… if only for a…<p>

With a deafening crash, the car slammed into a tree. If Ron had not been wearing a seatbelt he would have likely perished in the crash. Driver safety is everyone's business.

"Holy fucking shit!" screamed Ron as the car crumpled before his eyes.

With a dull pain in his forehead, he stumbled out of the car. He was bleeding and walking was difficult to co-ordinate. From what he could see, the car was now a useless heap of scrap metal and flames.

Ron struggled to stay on his feet.

"Help. HELP!"

Ron felt a great weariness overcome him. He sunk to the ground. He was just so tired.

"For Dobby's sake… won't somebody… help… me…?"

There was a sharp crack and the last thing Ron saw before he passed out was a small, sock-clad elf run towards him. It was pretty obviously Dobby who had come to rescue him. Ron smiled one last time before unconsciousness.

"Dobby, shine on you... shining star... shine on…"

* * *

><p>When Ginny awoke, it was dark. She lay on the floor, motionless. After a while, she began to call out for her parents who never came. Terrified, she pulled herself to her feet and searched the house. It was completely and totally empty.<p>

Ginny had no idea what the hell was going on but she managed to keep her cool. She searched the house for their near useless owl Errol, and immediately sent a message about her bizarre disappearance and reappearance of to the person she felt would be able to assist her the most: Albus Dumbledore. Surely he would be able to explain and figure out what the hell was going on.

She decided she would stay put. There was no need to charge off recklessly. Besides, if there was anyone Ginny trusted to sort this mess out, it was Dumbledore. Dumbledore always kept his cool and played it smart.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore re-entered his study and took out a quill. He would of course, not be able to lure his target into the Vault immediately. He would need something so appealing to the Stu, that he would have no choice but to enter.<p>

He would find some easily obtained but obscure item, hide it within the vault and in the opening speech to the school, he would warn the students not to seek it out. That would ensure the Stu would head straight for it. Who could resist such temptation? Who wouldn't want to be the centre of attention?

Dumbledore smiled. Everything was going according to-

Suddenly Nearly Headless Nick floated through the wall. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Yes Nicholas? Is there a problem?"

Nick was trembling heavily, so much so that his head kept swinging off from his neck and he needed to reattach it. It would be comical if it was so pathetically heart-wrenching.

"Professor Dumbledore… I'm quite afraid… that-well… Harry Potter," gulped Nick, "is dead."

Dumbledore swore.

"Fuck. Fuck fucking fuck."

In anger, he slammed his fist onto the table.

"Bollocks."

_**To Be Continued!**_


	8. A Newd Objective

Everyone was marching downstairs to head to the Great Hall. It would be an exciting night, Dumbledore would give a speech with heavy foreshadowing and plot details, and everyone would meet the new Defence against Dark Arts teacher. But one person remained in the dormitory.

_Clash Radical_.

Clash's dreams had all come true but to be honest, he hadn't expected things to turn out like they had. For instance, he hadn't expected Cho Chang to sight the bodies of the Weasleys he had stashed in the cargo hold of the Hogwarts Express. Much less that she would keep quiet about it and try to alert the authorities the moment he turned his back. Clash hated that in a woman.

So of course, he had quite understandably transfigured her into a bone and given it to Hagrid for Fang. It only made sense; Clash couldn't have her ruining his new set-up with her crafty ways.

And Eloise Midgen had been such a prude! She didn't even want to try the gimp, and got all uppity about it when Clash had strongly encouraged her to give it a try. So of course he had been well within his rights when he had locked her up with a manticore.

Clash smiled. Hagrid had been an excellent, if unwitting, accomplice to Clash's little rectifications here at Hogwarts. He might send him a pair of shears or something.

But what really pissed off Clash was the unexpected death of Harry Potter. Clash had planned to join Harry on whatever quest he would undertake that year and forge a true friendship, and something greater, afterwards.

Hell, he'd even been banging all these hot chicks to get him jealous! The gambit had never failed him before, but with his death, Clash would never feel the warm embrace of Harry as they had the best sex ever.

Clash pouted. Sure, taking Harry's position as protagonist would be fun, and Hermione was not without perks, she had two that particularly intrigued him, but Clash never compromised his dreams. He would have to find another way to have consensual, alive sex with Harry, and he would not stop until he found that way.

Surely something would turn up, he thought to himself as he headed down to the Great Hall, foregoing his shirt as per usual.

* * *

><p>The Great Hall was ringing with noise as Dumbledore ascended to the front of the Hall. He smiled and took his place in front of the stern. He cleared his throat and prepared to give his amazing opening speech.<p>

"Nitwit Blubber Tweak."

Everyone went silent. With a cough, Dumbledore began his speech anew.

"One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Greetings students. I trust you have all had an excellent holiday. I hope all of you first years are pleased with the House you were sorted into, and I wish you all an excellent time at this school. Except for all of you students in Slytherin. You guys can just piss the hell off."

The students in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and the other one (Duffle bag?) all laughed. The Slytherins all frowned in unison.

"And now for the important part of the speech. Or two important parts I guess. As many of you may have heard, Harry Potter was brutally murdered this afternoon by Dark Forces. We have captured the Death Eater we believe responsible. He has disguised himself as a Hogwarts student quite convincingly and he is currently being tortured for information. Rest assured, we have summoned the Dementors to better extract the information we need," continued Dumbledore.

The students let out a cheer.

"Yes, yes, it's all very exciting. But I have additional news. For you see, this year we will be holding a mysterious artefact in this very school. An artefact whose properties are not yet fully understood. Some say it can predict the future. Others believe it can reverse death itself. And some people believe it was a novelty item created by a lost civilisation. I can't say which is true. What I can say is that it is likely Lord Voldemort covets this item which we know as the Green Flame Torch, and with the murder of Harry Potter it is likely he may attempt to steal it," elaborated Dumbledore.

Clash's eyes widened, and so did his grin.

"However I have had it heavily guarded it. It's locked in a vault. That shit is as safe as houses. Not even the Philosopher's Stone was that well protected. So now that you know where it is, don't go after it. Good night everyone," Dumbledore concluded.

"Good night Dumbledore!" crowed everyone in reply.

Dumbledore turned to leave and then quickly rushed back to the front of the Hall.

"Also here's the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Whatever-Your-Name-Was."

The professor crossed her arms and watched with a sulky frown as Dumbledore absconded from the room with Snape and the rest of the students left, completely disinterested.

"Harrumph! How rude!"

_**To Be Continued!**_


	9. Hard Choices

When Clash returned to the Gryffindor common room, he found that the twins, Fred and George, had inexplicably set up a television set and everyone was watching the third Pirates of the Caribbean film.

"Oh man, Johnny Depp is so hot! Isn't he just amazing," squealed Hermione as she kneeled in front of the screen. Clash's eyes narrowed. How dare she kneel before any other man but him!

Seething with a rage akin to jealousy, but not quite jealousy Clash was too big a man for such emotion, Clash retreated to the softest couch and sunk deep within it. He stared at Hermione with loathing. That bitch, he thought to himself. She will pay for this insubordination.

Clash fingered his wand impatiently. The moment this film ended, he would escort her to his dormitory under the guise of a playful romp in Neville's bed and then she might have a terrible accident. Before or after the romp, Clash hadn't quite decided whether he should invoke the little death (La petite mort) before the permanent and much larger one.

His wand began to spark as he rubbed the tip between his fingers. He watched her, kneeling in front of the television and the sparks became errant and wilder. His grip tightened on the instrument, nearly cracking beneath his grasp.

He watched as the film ended and Draco and Crabbe skulked back up to their room, and everyone else scattered. He noticed Luna's absence, but it did not concern him. His target was approaching.

"Hey baby!" smiled Hermione as she sauntered towards him, swinging in her hips.

"Hey sweetie," grinned Clash, concealing his murderous intent, "did you enjoy the movie?"

Hermione giggled, "Oh yes, there are so many hunky men in those films. Not that they have anything on you babe!"

Clash held back from vomiting, but ran a hand down her cheek. And by cheek, you probably automatically assumed I meant her face without realising there are other cheeks I could have meant. Ohoho!

Hermione giggled, "Oh Clash, you're a bit keen babe. We should head back to your dorm."

Clash smirked. With his lips against her ear, he whispered, "We can do it in Neville's bed."

"Oi!"

"Shut up Neville," yelled Hermione and Clash in unison. Neville started to respond but with a glare from the pair, the retort died in his throat and he just sort of gargled at them.

"Crucio!" yelled Clash and Neville sank to the ground, squealing in agony.

"Babe, don't!" gasped Hermione.

Clash frowned.

"Sorry babe. I didn't mean it."

Hermione seemed to accept Clash's apology and pashed him right on the lips. They ascended the stair case, lips locked the whole time as they somewhat awkwardly navigated their way back to Clash's dorm.

As they burst in through the door, Seamus gave a yelp.

"What in the Devil's name are y'all doing then?"

"Petrificus Totalus," muttered Hermione breathily and Seamus fell to the floor with a sudden thud.

Clash pushed Hermione onto Neville's bed and turned to face Seamus.

"If you aren't interested in a gratuitous sex scene, you might want to skip to the next chapter."

Seamus had no idea what Clash was talking about. Probably because I'm using Clash to talk to you, the reader. You have been warned. If you aren't interested in the prospect of a sex scene between Clash and Hermione, feel free to skip ahead. You won't miss anything of importance.

* * *

><p>Clash sat down on the bed, and laid back onto Neville's pillow. To his disgust, he found a copy of <em>Wizard Hunk Weekly<em> under Neville's bed. Worse still, some of the pages were stuck together.

"Nasty," shuddered Clash as he tossed the sordid literature onto Seamus' face. If Seamus had been able to scream in horror, he would have.

Hermione kneeled in front of Clash, a playful smile flickering across her face.

"You ready for this baby?"

Clash smirked.

"I was born ready. With a raging hard on. For you."

Hermione swapped a brief, confused glance with Seamus, before shaking her head and running her hand through Clash's tight jeans. She slowly removed his pants, followed by his belt.

Clash raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, babe? You already got those off. Come on, I'm waiting here. I need relief."

Hermione smiled cheekily, "You want relief, you gotta wait for it."

Clash felt his member brush feather-lightly against his silky soft boxers. He had never been so hard than right now. Excluding all the other times he had been just as hard that is.

"Hermione… please… just get on with it…"

She complied with his request, licking him and taking him in her mouth. Clash grunted sensually, wrapping his fingers through her hair and locking her into place. Seamus watched on, literally unable to turn away or tell whether he was hard because this was arousing or because he had been frozen solid.

Hermione then started pumping him and fondled his balls. Then she sucked, strongly. Clash's hips began to involuntarily buck up and down, to the rhythm of a sensual beat.

"Oh yeah babe, suck it like that. Do you like it like that?"

Hermione tried to respond with something sexy, but the 'meat' that filled her mouth made it hard for her to speak and she just ended up gagging on his member. Clash giggled.

"Ha-ha, you know Dudley looked just like you do now."

Hermione donned an expression of confusion, and spluttered, her face turning blue.

"Hahaha! Yeah, just like that!"

Hermione pulled out, gasping for air. Clash tightened his grip on her head and pulled her back down.

"Not yet babe, I'm nearly there."

She reluctantly returned and began rolling her tongue across his member. Clash was on the edge. With a great and terrible roar, he released into her mouth and she took it like a champ. She swallowed it all, yet somehow a little still dribbled from her chin.

Seamus had never felt so many conflicting emotions.

Clash ran a hand through Hermione's hair tenderly.

"Wow, what a champ. Pity I'm still going to have to kill you."

Hermione's eyes widen and she gasped.

"What?"

But Clash had already reached down and firmly grasped his wand. He pulled it up so that it levelled with Hermione's face.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione was launched backwards and headfirst through the glass window. Glass shards span out in all directions as Hermione spun out across the sky. Clash watched with a smile as she slowly descended out into the dark forest below.

"Well, that takes care of that then." He commented smugly to himself, "If the fall doesn't kill her, the werewolves will."

He turned back to Seamus, who stared at Clash in shock. Clash wasn't sure whether that was because he had been frozen with that expression on his face or what. As far as Clash was concerned, Seamus was just another witness he didn't need.

"Shame to let a hardened man go to waste," smirked Clash as he descended upon Seamus, "But I'm sure you'll manage to reach that 'high' alone if you know what I mean."

Seamus didn't really get what Clash meant but that was irrelevant. Because at that moment, Clash had thrown Seamus out the window. He spun out into the darkness, unable to scream.

Clash brushed his hands off and took out a notepad. He began scribbling immediately.

"_'Horrible… thing… happened… Seamus… in fit… of… jealousy… tackled… Hermione…out of… dormitory window…_ ' Yeah. I think they'll buy that."

He pocketed the notepad, and exited the room. Time to crack open that vault.

_**To Be Continued!**_


	10. Oh You!

Clash Radical strode down the hallway with reckless abandon. He basked in the afterglow he always got after some particularly satisfying sex/murder.

Sure, there had been brief moments of doubt but Clash's carefully constructed lie had people convinced that maybe Seamus had tackled Hermione out of the dormitory window after all. Who knows with the Irish, am I right?

Clash smiled. Man, what a blast he had had in that last chapter. He sure did not envy those who skipped ahead to this chapter.

He strode forth through the darkened corridors to the dungeon. He was quite sure that the Vault would be hidden deep within the recesses of the dungeon and Clash was never wrong. He was quite excited to finally have the chance to play the part of the hero.

If only Harry and Hermione had still been alive, he could have had the trio all go down together! Well, except for Ron, but Clash always thought of Ron as his least favourite of the trio and it was highly unlikely he would even encounter him anyway, after the whole apparition thing. Unless in some strange twist of fate, Ron were to be located within the dungeon which Clash thought would be highly unlikely.

Yeah right, thought Clash to himself, I've as good as killed the original trio.

He stopped his stride and frowned. He had really liked the idea of a trio. Stroking the place where his beard would have been if he had had one (and it probably would have been a super special awesome beard if he had), Clash thought longer and harder than he ever had before.

That is to say, he thought for a time period greater than five seconds to come up with a coherent plan rather than his usual reliance on pure luck.

Although Clash was probably the luckiest person alive, he couldn't always rely on the favour of the author. At the rate characters were dying, he knew that careful planning would be required to avoid a similar fate.

As he stroked his non-existent beard, feeling its soft lack of curls, he noticed the door to a classroom was slightly ajar.

"Could there be someone hidden within?" he asked aloud to nobody in particular.

He took out his wand, and burst through the door in a manner similar to Kool-Aid man would burst through a wall.

That is to say, he totally shattered the door with his boots as he smashed his way through the wood.

"Boo Yeah!" he cried, with an utterly insane expression on his face.

The best thing about being a Marty Stu in a fan fiction is getting away with crazy stuff like this, thought Clash to himself. He could probably swallow the Goblet of Fire or something and it would probably give him magical powers or something.

Everything always works out for the best, thought Clash to himself with a little smile as he stood where the door once had.

Luna Lovegood and some other unnamed character that Clash cared little about jumped in shock as wooden fragments flew in all directions. Clash stopped zoning out and decided to deal with the pair.

"What's happening tiddlywinks?"

Luna buttoned up her blouse and the other guy zipped up his fly. Clash raised an eyebrow.

"Luna, you little slut! Getting a bit of Bratwurst between the old loaves hey? Looking to crush the Wookiee as it were? Looking to dance the horizontal tango? Looking to have the old sexual intercourse, as it were?"

Luna shrugged, "Hey, Hermione and I both bet that we'd sleep with more guys than the other by the year's end. I was just notching up my score. Sorry, Curtis was it? Nothing personal."

Before Curtis could stutter out his reply, Clash interrupted, "Well is that so? Well I guess you won't have much competition. Seamus tackled her out my dormitory's window and they both plummeted to their death. I saw the whole thing and yet could do nothing."

Luna gasped and ran over to Clash, pressing but not quite draping herself over him. He sort of half-hugged her as she attempted a full embrace. Luna gushed, "Oh my gosh that's so sad! Are you going to be okay? Do you need comforting?"

Curtis (?) frowned. Luna winked and mouthed 'I'll fuck you later' to him. It did little to improve his mood. Clash sighed dramatically.

"It's hard, you know? We were seeing each other for like, maybe three hours there. But I'm currently on my way to find the Green Flame Torch, a mythical artefact I've never heard of but I believe it might be able to resurrect our dead friends."

"Oh," said Luna looking slightly put out. "Well I guess you'll want to get on with that then."

"Sure thing, but if it doesn't work, I might need that 'comforting' after all," smiled Clash, as he walked out of the room. As he entered what had once been the doorway, he turned and smiled yet again.

"But until then, Diffindo!"

With a flick of his wand, Luna's blouse split open and Curtis' (?) pants fell down. Clash winked mischievously.

"Keep it up, boy. You can thank me later."

Curtis smiled and shook his head disbelievingly. Maybe that Clash guy was alright. He turned to face Luna, with an expectant look on his face. Luna rolled her eyes.

"Sure let's do it."

Oh that Luna, such a slut!

* * *

><p>Meanwhile Voldemort sat on his throne of skulls collected from the many parents he had killed over the years. It wasn't comfortable, but it sure looked intimidating. And as far as Voldemort was concerned, that was enough.<p>

Suddenly Bellatrix Lestrange entered the room.

"My Lord, I have heard heartell of strange going ons in Hogwarts."

Lord Voldemort inexplicably replied in Ye Olde English, "Verily, thou must tell unto thee what thee hath heard of Hogwarts. Hast thou heard of some sort of mythical artefact which hath been stored within?"

"Ay my lord," replied Bellatrix throatily, "I heartell that the Green Flame Torch is hidden within."

Voldemort laughed.

"Haha the Green Flame Torch? What kind of legendary piece of shit is that?"

Bellatrix shrugged, "I heartell-"

"If you say 'heartell' one more time I will strangle you with your own ovaries Bella."

"I-uh very well," stuttered Bellatrix, "I have heard the Green Flame Torch can reverse death itself."

Voldemort shrugged.

"Don't care, I've got Horcruxes. They protect me from death plenty. I'm sure I'll be fine."

And with that he had Bellatrix dismissed with a firm back-handed slap.

Oh that Voldemort, always keeps his pinping hand strong!

* * *

><p>Meanwhile Ginny sat in the Burrow and continued to do absolutely nothing relevant to this story. She hadn't heard back from Dumbledore so she had sent letters to the Ministry of Magic and the wizard cops. While her actions may have been sensible she contributed nothing to the plot at all. In fact, I don't know why I bothered to dignify her with a paragraph.<p>

Oh that Ginny, such a useless piece of shit!

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, locked in the dungeon and not feeling the benefits of death or sex, Ron was strapped to a table with more leather than he was comfortable with. He had been quite brutally tortured for the last few hours. Snape was quite fond of the whip, mused Ron to himself as he felt his lower back sting from the lashes Snape had dealt.<p>

Ron shuddered. He needed to get out of here. Snape's black inches had caused more than their fair share of red cheeks, and Ron wasn't even into this BDSM stuff. Everything was getting just a bit too sexualised for his comfort, not that the torture had been comfortable in any sense of the word.

Ron tried to slip his sweaty wrists through his cuffs. If he could just reach his wand…

Suddenly Snape walked in with a knife. Ron's eyes widened and he moved his hand out of Snape's sight before subtly continuing to reach for his wand.

Snape smirked as the steel glistened in his fist.

"Good news Weasley. I'm here to provide you with sweet release. Just hold still while I take this knife and-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ron had reached his wand and he wasn't taking any chances with a suspected Death Eater much less a creep like Snape. He had been tortured for hours without sighting another soul. Snape was clearly working on Voldemort's orders.

Ron removed the copious amounts of leather from his skin and slid from the table. Snape's limp form lay dead on the ground. Ron, having no other clothes, was forced to strip Snape, an activity he found horrible and awful and not at all sexy. Snape's naked body was not something he had ever wanted to see.

To ensure Voldemort would not discover the body, he showed surprising magical skill and transfigured Snape into a cauldron, before stashing him in his own office. _The perfect crime._

As Ron prepared to exit the dungeon, a blonde, incredibly handsome man descended the stairs doing a little dance. Ron took out his wand. He did not recognise this student nor did he trust anyone he saw performing the '_Caramelldansen_' in real life. It could be a Death Eater. A very _kawaii_ Death Eater.

"Hold it right there. Who the bloody hell are you?"

Clash gasped, "Weasley! You're alive! But I thought I killed you when I-"

Ron's eyes narrowed angrily, "You son of a bitch!"

He leapt forward and gave Clash a well-deserved punch to face, sending him spinning back onto the stairs. He then proceeded to continue to lay the smack down on Clash's pretentious smug face.

"_Where. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. Hermione. And. Harry. You. Son. Of. A. Bitch_!" he grunted, as he punctuated his reasonable questions with swift yet powerful punches. Clash would have responded, had he not wet himself and passed out on the dungeon floor.

Ron scoffed angrily. He dropped Clash and watched him slump to the ground.

Refraining from laying further smack down on the tool, Ron paced up and down the corridor, waiting for his return to consciousness.

As Ron paced, he noticed the sound of his footsteps were not the only sounds echoing in the dungeon. He pulled out his wand to reveal Dumbledore descending the staircase. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, surveying the scene before him. After a brief moment, he smiled.

"An excellent job Ron. You've made this a lot easier for all of us."

Ron sighed in relief.

"You believe I'm really Ron then? And not an imposter?"

Dumbledore smiled, "I'm an accomplished Legilimens. I know it's you. I do hope Snape didn't get too carried away with the opportunity to interrogate you."

Ron's heart skipped a beat, "Oh… well… he was… definitely- uh enthusiastic."

Dumbledore face-palmed.

"You killed him didn't you Ron?"

Ron shrugged guiltily.

"Check please?"

"Oh that Ron! Such a card," laughed Dumbledore as we cut to black.

_**To Be Concluded within the Next Few Chapters!**_


	11. Everything is fine

When Clash awoke, he found himself strapped to a strange stone slab, with a lot less leather than he would have liked. His head was pounding with an unfamiliar sensation he guessed might just possibly be pain. Clash groaned. He had no idea pain hurt so much, this was the most terrible sensation in the world.

"Good morning," grinned Dumbledore as he undramatically revealed himself from behind a lime green curtain. Clash gasped. Not only was that a terrible colour for a curtain to be, but Dumbledore had somehow captured Clash.

Clash gulped. He was totally screwed, and not in a good way.

"What's going on? Where am I? Why is there so little leather," demanded Clash indignantly as he flexed lithely and struggled against his bonds to no avail.

The old man laughed heartily.

"Relax Marty. It'll all be over soon. Your reign of terror has ended."

Clash looked confused.

"Marty? My name isn't Marty. What am I wearing a life preserver or something? Do I look like a kid fresh from the eighties just cruising around on his hot pink hover board like he's hot shit?"

"I think you may be straying from the point," quipped Dumbledore.

"I referred to you as 'Marty' as I believe you are what is known as a 'Marty Stu' the male equivalent to a 'Mary Sue'. You exist to derail continuity to suit your own inscrutable ends. But not today. Because this is the end of the road for you."

Clash smiled, "Roads? Where I'm going I don't need roads."

Dumbledore groaned.

"Would you just shut up? I swear to the wizard equivalent of God, if you keep up these _Back to the Future_ references I'm just going to explode in a green haze out of rage."

Clash shrugged.

"Sure thing Doc. Where did Ron go anyway?"

"You don't believe I would tell you that do you? He's far from here, preparing to enact plan B in the case that plan A fails," scoffed Dumbledore.

"What's plan A?" queried Clash, "incidentally I'll have you know my name is Clash Radical. Best remember it; you'll be screaming it later."

Dumbledore coughed loudly. He raised an eyebrow in a very surprised manner.

"Are you hitting on me? Look don't answer that, I don't even care. But as you asked I will explain plan A. As you know, I lured you down here based on your assumption that the Green Flame Torch was a magical artefact with the ability to raise the dead. This was in fact a lie. You'll get used to that or rather, you might have if you were still going to be a thing," he added to Clash.

Clash continued the trend of eyebrow raising that has been going on for far too long. It's like everyone's eyebrows are frogs trapped in a pot of boiling water, and they just can't jump high enough to escape and fly off people's faces and into the wild blue yonder.

"What do you mean 'if I were still going to be a thing'? Are you implying that soon I will not in fact 'be a thing.'?"

"Yes," confirmed Dumbledore bluntly, "Your days of being a thing are numbered. As you might have guessed, the Green Flame Torch does not in fact revive the dead. It does, in fact, erase its burn victims from existence. Much like Marty McFly was nearly erased from existence in the first _Back to the Future _film."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," whimpered Clash. A trail of sweat began to slide down his neck. Clash was sweating up a storm.

"Of course you are not going to like it," scowled Dumbledore, "the whole point is you're such an unpleasant individual with such horrifying ability to screw up continuity that we can't really hope to control you. Hell, every moment I waste here not performing the spell is another opportunity given to you to break free and screw everything up somehow."

"You mean screw everything up like this?" screamed Clash triumphantly as his sweaty wrists slumped from his bonds. He immediately reached for his wand and pointed it square at the old man's bearded face. He indicated for Dumbledore to take the place Clash had just vacated.

"Take a seat," he said with his signature smug grin. Dumbledore reluctantly sat down.

"Don't panic," said Clash with a mocking voice, "it's all going to be fine. Soon you won't have to worry it. On account of you not being a thing anymore."

Dumbledore failed to gasp because this was such an obvious conclusion of events. In fact, Dumbledore smiled.

"I'm not panicking, Clash. Not only do you not know how to perform the ritual, but you have failed to take into account plan B. You may have prevented your removal from our reality here, but I think you may not be so successful in preventing the second attempt."

"What do you mean," gasped Clash in horror.

"I'm afraid by now it's too late. You see while I had been upright, I had been able to continue sending a magical signal to Ron, allowing him to know that I was still able to perform the ritual. But upon your removal of my wand, Ron would have become aware that I had likely been defeated at your hands. And he is likely working now to retroactively remove your presence."

Clash gasped, "You mean, he's gone back in time to kill me? Just like in _Back to the Future_?"

Dumbledore face palmed with a weary sigh.

"That didn't even happen in _Back to the Future_. But regardless I, and the universe, will soon no longer have to put up with your antics. As we speak, the world around us is fading out of existence."

And he was right. Everything started fading into black, a darkness descended upon the room.

Clash screamed with anguish.

"No, this is NOT happening! This is not cool Dumbledore. You can't do this to me," he gagged as marks started to appear around his throat.

"What the shit is this?" he screamed as he began to choke in a manner karmic-ally similar to Dudley's death.

"If I were to hazard a guess," smiled Dumbledore, "I would assume that is Ron retroactively having strangled you as a child. You are not long for this world Clash. Make your peace with your sins."

"Never!" screamed Clash as he exploded into a green haze.

As the darkness swirled around him, Dumbledore sighed. He could only hope this plan would work. To be honest, he hadn't known whether or not it would cause a paradox and destroy all of space and time. But he had felt the risk was worth it. He could only pray as he with the rest of Creation, exploded into a green haze and ceased.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile and yet, years in the past, Ron stepped back from Clash Radical's corpse. He had done it. According to Dumbledore, the future he had come from would have ceased to exist. In its place would be a brand new timeline, free from Clash Radical's presence.<p>

As Ron took out the time turner Dumbledore had instructed him and turned it sufficiently to return years in the future, it vaguely occurred to him that there might be unknown repercussions to his actions. But he didn't have time to dwell on that because he had hurtled straight up into the future.

Ron smiled. It had been a long day, but he was finally going to reunite with his best friends Harry and Hermione. Everything was going to be just-

In a cruel twist of fate no-one saw coming Ron was suddenly hit by the Hogwarts Express. Clash's absence had caused its path to shift to directly where Ron was standing, which prior to the time travel had been 5 metres to the right of the train tracks.

In the brief second Ron had left before he, the last survivor of his timeline was also exterminated, it suddenly occurred to him that everything had happened might just have been a total and complete waste of time.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, on the train and oblivious to any time travel shenanigans, the alternate Ron, Hermione and Harry took a seat on the Hogwarts Express. There were no new students, and no unexplained murders that weren't perpetrated by Voldemort.<p>

If the ghosts of the other Ron, Hermione and Harry could have looked down on the scene below, presumably in a scene remenscient to that of the last scene in _Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi_, you can be assured that they would be smiling. And probably beating the everloving shit out of Clash Radical, professional douchebag.

Everything was fine.

_**The End!**_


End file.
